


The Gay Awakening of Ronald Weasley

by mothermalfoy (slytherinxravenclaw)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Background Drarry, Bottom Ron, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, First Time, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Probably a slowburn, Romance, Top Blaise, background Pansmione, brooding! Harry, confident! Blaise, flangst, ron/draco friendship, shy! Ron, unapologetically Gay! Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-14 14:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinxravenclaw/pseuds/mothermalfoy
Summary: As the summer comes to an end, Ron discovers something new and nerve wracking about himself. He's pretty sure he's gay. The only other person he knows who's gay is Draco Malfoy, desperate for someone to talk to about it, Ron decides to speak to the blond, and an unlikely friendship is formed.





	1. realizations

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea for this started based on a Discord conversation I had with a friend and quickly spiraled into this huge idea that I'm really really excited to share. I've only ever written background Blaise/Ron in the past so writing them in the foreground is really different for me. This story will include Drarry but mostly as a background thing. Everyone is really messed up from the war and so naturally Harry is broody and a little checked out. I know where this is going but I have no idea how long this will be so... just know that going in.  
> Special thanks to my lovely Beta Keyflight790

Ron Weasley sighed, wiping his brow with the back of his hand eying the rest of his friends indulging a water break, splashing each other with an Aguamenti in an effort to cool off. The sun was exceptionally hot in the Scottish highlands, and most of the boys working on rebuilding the castle had stripped off their shirts, the midday sun beating incessantly down on their backs. Neville was the first to get splashed, the water soaking through the white tee shirt covering his body. Ron’s eyes widened, Neville was quite fit actually, he realized somewhat startlingly, as the blond pulled off his shirt with a chuckle. Cormac grinned, running behind a tree, as Neville pointed his wand at the already shirtless Gryffindor, spraying him with water. Ron watched the scene unfold with sudden rapt fascination. Dean, the last still clothed and dry removed his shirt of his own accord. Dean pulled the garment off his head and tossed it to the side, stripping off his trousers with it, much to the whistles from several of his housemates at his little striptease. In the back of his mind, Ron was certain he could hear Seamus yelling at his fellow Gryffindors to keep their eyes to themselves. But he could barely hear it over the roaring of blood in his ears at the sight of the half-naked man before him. Ron swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, trying not to stare as the dark-skinned boy hit himself with an Aguamenti and water trailed down his perfectly defined chest, down his abs, and towards his black pants. Dean was a lot more fit than he remembered him being not a few days before, thick arm muscles, and thigh muscles that created a certain unexpected stirring in him.

Ron worried his lower lip, unable to keep his eyes from roaming of their own accord to his crotch, curious what lie beneath those pants. He shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Dean, his face suddenly hot with shame and confusion. He wasn’t even gay, he thought. Besides, he had seen Dean naked loads of times, hadn’t he? He’d seen half of Gryffindor tower naked at one time or another, and he was pretty sure he’d caught more than a few of them wanking by accident a few times before too, so what was it about the other boy that suddenly had his trousers tightening and his pulse quickening at the thought of being on his knees before the other Gryffindor. Ron groaned to himself at the thought, turning towards the castle and trying his best to set his section of wall back to rights. He wasn’t gay, he reminded himself.  _ You have a girlfriend.  _ Ron frowned a little as he thought about Hermione.  _ A girlfriend whom you’ve yet to do anything with. A girlfriend who’s been steadily drifting apart from you since the end of the war,  _ his mind supplied for him.  _ A girlfriend who has never stirred such a reaction in you.  _ That thought nearly made Ron start with alarm.  _ That can’t be right,  _ he tried to argue with himself, thinking back. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single time in which he’d been turned on by his girlfriend, or any girl for that matter.  _ That  _ can’t  _ be right,  _ he tried to reason. But even snogging Lavender as many times as he had, hadn’t really been as arousing as seeing Dean strip down to his pants had been just then.

_ Oh bugger,  _ Ron thought with a frown.  _ No, that’s… I’m not…  _ but he couldn’t argue with the facts. He tried to conjure images of Hermione in a similar state of undress, half praying to Merlin to get harder, only to find his erection fading at the mental image.  _ No, no, bloody hell!  _ He tried to think of someone,  _ anyone  _ else, but any female he could think of half-naked only served to make him soft. Ron shook his head, he couldn’t believe it.  _ Wouldn’t  _ believe it. Turning on his heel, Ron disapparated, ignoring the shouts from the other Gryffindors about their work. The castle could wait, he thought. They still had a week before the start of term, this was definitely more important he told himself as he appeared in his and Hermione’s room at Grimmauld Place, stumbling slightly. 

Ron sighed when he caught sight of the trunk at the foot of the bed.

“Mione?” he asked. A loud squeak echoed from the closet, Hermione stepped out, looking rather guilty, clutching a number of her things. “You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. Little had been the same after the war, his family had been in mourning for Fred, and Ron could hardly stand to see his mother sob any longer, so he’d moved in with Harry. Hermione with nowhere else to go and, with her parent's memories forever erased, had moved in with them. She and Ron had tried to pick up where they’d left off to little avail. Harry had shut them out, and suddenly faced with the prospect of dealing with their relationship head on, the two had floundered. Ron's days had been filled with fixing up the castle, and his evenings with Hermione had been awkward and stilted, the adrenaline of the war and the looming certainty of death fading away, leaving behind only uncertainty, and doubt. _ What were they even doing? _ Ron had wondered on more than one occasion. The breakup was inevitable, yet Hermione's leaving was unexpected. 

Hermione sighed. “We haven’t been happy for some time,” she said. Another statement, Ron couldn't argue. 

“Where will you go?” Ron asked, feeling an odd sense of relief that he didn’t want to think about too hard.

“America,” she said. Whatever answer Ron had expected, America hadn’t been it. “I’ve been accepted to Wellesley, it’s a Uni in Massachusetts.”

“Oh,” was all Ron could say, for what else  _ was  _ there to say. She didn’t apologize, and Ron was grateful for that. Instead, she finished packing in silence, gave him a short hug, and shrank her trunk, and stuck it in her pocket. Ron watched as the girl he’d thought he was in love with grabbed an old shoe, and vanished on the spot, leaving him alone in their bedroom, with his thoughts.

*** * ***

The week passed slowly for Ron. Harry still hadn't come out of his room, and the house was eerily quiet without Hermione. Kreacher shuffled about, still bemoaning his mistress's home being filled with blood traitors and the like, but Ron found he couldn’t be too chuffed about it, as at least the house elf made  _ some  _ noise. The day before they were to leave on the Hogwarts Express, Ron knocked on the door to Harry’s bedroom. As expected, there was no response, and Ron half debated whether or not it would be worth it for him to keep knocking. Did Harry have any intention of going back to Hogwarts? Or was he simply going to wallow in this godawful house for the rest of his miserable life?

Ron sighed, he loved his friend dearly, but he had made a decision following Hermione’s leaving, they had all been given a second chance now that the war was over. A chance some of their friends didn’t get, Ron intended to live his life to the fullest. He was going to enjoy himself, and be himself, whoever that was. He hadn’t quite come to terms with the likelihood of his being gay, but his 8 th year was his last chance for him to really be young and foolish, and Ron intended to make the most of it.

Taking a deep breath, and running a hand through his hair, Ron made his way back to his room to finish packing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited for a start of term. First year?

Looking around his empty bedroom, Ron couldn’t help but smile a little, he wouldn’t miss this place, he decided. The last few months had been exhausting, to say the least, and the sooner he got on the Hogwarts Express the better, he decided, curling up on the bed, and closing his eyes.

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until a loud knock on his door jolted him awake and Ron looked around the darkened room with a yawn. Stretching, he cast a Lumos. “Come in.” The door opened and Harry poked his head in. Ron could barely contain the smile that burst forth at the sight of his friend. “I was beginning to think you’d keeled over or something,” Ron said with a chuckle.

Harry laughed somewhat weakly, Ron could see the exhaustion written all over his face, in the grey bags under his eyes. Ron pat the side of the bed beside him, smirking when Harry ran into the room and leaped onto his bed. Like they were third years all over again. “Sorry for checking out on you,” Harry said. Ron shook his head, he understood it. Things had been difficult for all of them. “Mione gone?” Ron nodded. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good actually,” he said still unsure he could believe how true it was. Vaguely he felt like he should feel more sad about it, and yet he just felt, free. “You and Gin taking a break?”

Harry snorted, “That’s a word for it,” he shrugged. “Honestly I feel pretty good about it too.”

Ron smiled, “This can just be Ron and Harry’s year to just be. No relationships, no drama…”

“And no bloody Voldemort,” Harry added with a dark chuckle.

Ron laughed, “A totally normal year,” he said excitedly. Harry couldn’t help but grin at the thought. If anyone deserved a normal year Ron decided, it was them.

They talked into the wee hours of the morning, about everything and nothing. Plans for the coming year, classes they were looking forward to, and yet, somehow Ron couldn’t seem to bring himself to mention to Harry the  _ Dean incident _ , as he insisted on referring to it in his head. He’d spent so much of the past week trying  _ not  _ to think about it, that it seemed the  _ only  _ thing he could think about was seeing Dean, half-naked, water dripping down his chest.  _ Not now,  _ Ron thought to himself, with a groan. If Harry noticed his inner turmoil, he made no mention of it, yawning, Harry stretched and laid his head back on Ron’s pillow. Ron yawned himself, half debating getting up and sleeping on a couch or something,  _ fuck it,  _ his eyes burned with exhaustion, what was the worst that could happen? He thought, closing his eyes and curling up on his side.

Sunlight poured in through the drapes, and Ron groaned, humming contentedly at the feel of warm, strong arms wrapped around his waist. Still half asleep, he curled further into those arms, rubbing his arse against the crotch currently behind him with a smirk.

Several seconds later, Ron’s eyes snapped open, and he all but leaped out of the bed, blinking, as he took in the sight of his still sleeping best mate laying on the other side of the bed. Ron groaned, shaking his head, running into the bathroom in an effort to shake off the too comfortable sensation he’d felt being cuddled by Harry.

Hermione was likely to say it was something to do with the two of them being touch hungry… or something. Ron shook his head, trying not to think too hard on any of that. He really didn’t have time for this, he thought, climbing into the shower.

* * *

At half nine, Ron stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Harry, who had only begun anxiously packing the contents of his life half an hour earlier, after having woken up by the crack of Kreacher apparating into the room to deliver tea. Harry frantically flailed out of bed, running as fast as he could to get his things organized. Ron couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself for being the prepared one for a change. He’d offered to help Harry numerous times, but given the state of his bedroom, Ron quickly realized he wouldn’t be much use.

Harry came bounding down the stairs a few moments later. “All set?” Ron asked. Harry nodded, holding out his arm and the two disapparated to King’s Cross. The station was bustling and full of life, as Ron and Harry stepped out of an alcove and made their way towards Platform 9. It was odd how blissfully unaware the Muggles were of how close they had come to total annihilation at the hands of a madman just a few months earlier. Slipping past the sea of harried Muggles, Ron and Harry slipped through the barrier between Platform 9 and 10 and onto Platform 9 3/4. The magical platform that materialized before them was decidedly quieter in comparison. It seemed, given all that had occurred last May, few parents were prepared to send their children back to Hogwarts so soon. Despite all assurances from Professor McGonagall that the school had prepared and was safer than it had ever been. There had been some amount of debate amongst the Hogwarts Governors whether or not the school should be opened at all given the end of the war. In the end, Professor McGonagall had been insistent, "We will not show fear!" she had said, echoing words that sounded so much like Dumbledore. 

The two friends made their way across the platform and onto the train with little fanfare. It seemed despite everything no one was particularly interested in bothering Harry at the moment. Neither Ron nor Harry was bothered by this fact as they snuck onto the train and made their way towards the back in search of an empty compartment when he heard a familiar voice drawl from his left.

“I swear he rimmed me for a solid hour!” Malfoy bragged, chuckling. Ron froze mid-step, pausing to eavesdrop on the blond’s sexual exploits from the previous summer. He had, of course, read all about it in the Prophet for months:

**DEATH EATER PARTIES IN PARIS NIGHTCLUB**

At first, Ron had been outraged at Draco’s attitude to his part in the war, as if he hadn’t lost anything, as if none of it had meant anything to him. But of course, he  _ had  _ lost things in the war. Disgraced, his father had gone to Azkaban, and his mother, bereft had found herself checking into St. Mungo’s after a nervous breakdown. The Manor had been seized by the Ministry, as had the majority of the Malfoy family fortune. The only thing keeping Draco going, according to the press, was a series of wealthy older men who were apparently keeping the Malfoy heir in the lifestyle to which he’d become accustomed. If he was honest, Ron felt sorry for him, just a little. Over the last few months, he’d had a lot of time to think, Draco was as much a bystander in all of this as any of them. A victim of his parents decisions. He’d been a shit to them growing up, Ron could hardly deny that, but if he had learned anything from the end of the war it was that he had no time for childish rivalries. Life was far too short for that.

With some amount of effort, Ron managed to tear himself away from Draco’s compartment and followed Harry the rest of the way to the back of the train and their own compartment. Harry was already sitting down, reading the Daily Prophet, leaving Ron to his own thoughts. His mind replayed Malfoy’s words on a loop.  _ I swear he rimmed me for a solid hour.  _ Ron didn’t know what that meant, but he knew one thing for sure, Draco Malfoy was gay, and suddenly he felt a little less alone.

After what had felt like an eternity lost in his own thoughts, the train lurched forward. Ron stood abruptly and slipped out of their compartment, he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, only that he could not sit for a second longer cooped up waiting for Harry to say something.

He didn’t know what had possessed him, but the realization that Draco was like him, the only other person he knew who liked guys, made him need to seek the other boy out. He was certain if he didn’t find someone to talk to soon, he would burst. Which is how he found himself frozen once more outside of Draco Malfoy’s compartment. The door was shut, the curtains drawn, and for the life of him, Ron couldn’t bring himself to knock.

“It’s rather impolite to eavesdrop,” Draco drawled. Ron swallowed, opening the door nervously.

“I… er… sorry,” he said, feeling rather stupid.

“What can we do for you, Weasley?” asked a smooth voice from Draco’s left. Ron turned to face Draco’s friend and instantly felt his face heat. His mouth suddenly dry as he took in the dark skinned man. He was easily the most handsome person Ron had ever seen. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but words escaped him.

“Well you broke another one Blaise,” Draco said with a snort. Ron swallowed, mentally berating himself for gawking like a moron. Blaise grinned and offered him a wink. Ron’s mind short-circuited as he blushed impossibly harder.

“S-sorry.”

“Not at all. You’re welcome to  _ come  _ and interrupt us, any time,” Blaise said smoothly. Ron felt his cock throb at the words. Draco rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a slag. Please excuse him,” Draco said. It was odd how nice this Draco seemed.  _ Perhaps he really did just need a good cock up his arse,  _ Ron thought, nearly laughing hysterically at the thought.

“I wondered if I could possibly speak to you... in private,” Ron said, tearing his eyes away from Blaise, giving Draco a pleading look. Draco raised an eyebrow, and for a brief moment, Ron thought he might tell him to piss off. Turning to his friend, Draco smiled.

“Blaise, darling, fuck off for a bit would you?”

Blaise smirked, and got to his feet, making his way past the spot Ron was currently glued to. Ron swallowed, following Blaise’s eyes as they raked over his form. He could feel the heat of the other man radiating against him, and the smell of his alluring cologne, Something spicy and exotic that made Ron want to drop to his knees.

Draco rolled his eyes at his friend, crossing his legs, and folding his arms across his chest, Ron stepped inside the compartment and sat down across from him. The last thing Ron saw of Blaise was his devilish smile as he closed the compartment door behind him and vanished down the train corridor. Ron turned back to the blond in front of him, and nearly gasped, he hadn’t noticed before but Draco was in a skirt. A Slytherin green skirt to be exact, with white knee high socks, and white trainers. His button-down had the top three buttons undone revealing his milky collarbones. Ron wondered if Draco and Blaise weren’t sleeping together, and an odd fit of jealousy ripped through him at the thought. Shaking his head he tapped his feet nervously on the ground, not sure where to start.

Luckily, Draco saved him the need, “So, what can I do for you?” Draco asked, sounding so sincere that Ron was momentarily taken aback.

“I t-think I might be…” Ron paused, it was still hard to consider saying the word, but somehow seeing Draco in a skirt made him feel less afraid. “Gay,” he said barely above a whisper.

“And you came to me to help you figure that out?” Draco asked. There wasn’t an ounce of mocking in his tone as Ron had expected, it seemed like he was genuinely curious why exactly Ron had come to him of all people.

“You’re the only other person I could think of who was… you know…”

“Gay?” Draco asked. “You might want to get used to the idea of saying it. It’s not a curse you know.”

“I know,” Ron said defensively. Draco raised an eyebrow at him and Ron sighed. “I’m not entirely used to the idea.”

“So what makes you think you are?”

“I’ve been having a lot of thoughts,” Ron admitted. “A-about men. And being with them,” he blushed, as he thought about Blaise and how much he desperately wanted him.

“Being with them how?” Draco asked.

Ron swallowed, “Being… fucked, by them.”

Draco grinned, leaning forward at that, “Well, well, well, Weasley is a bottom. Whoever knew. Does the golden boy know?”

Ron shook his head quickly. “No, and you can’t tell him!”

Draco laughed, “In case it missed your notice, he and I don’t talk.”

Ron sighed, “Neither did we until a few moments ago,” he said.

“Touche. So… tell me everything,” Draco said. 

Perhaps it was the relief of knowing that he had a kindred spirit in the blond, or perhaps it was a rush of adrenaline or the prospect of finally getting to be himself, but Ron suddenly found himself spilling his deepest darkest secrets to Draco Malfoy. He had never felt so free. Draco listened intently, never judging, never mocking, just… listening. It was such a relief to finally be able to talk to someone about it, that Ron decided he didn’t even care if Draco decided to tell the whole school. He knew he wouldn’t of course. Draco had promised as much, going so far as to offer the Unbreakable Vow to assure him. If Ron had been shocked by this, it was nothing compared to the shock he had at the fact that in the train ride from London to Scotland, he and Draco had actually become friends. Draco was thoughtful and interesting, and so confident that Ron couldn’t help but admire him, and wasn’t that an odd thing?

  
  



	2. changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me a moment. Special thanks to my amazing beta. Keyflight790 for all the love and support.

The sky was dark outside their window as the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade. Ron stretched like a tired cat and got to his feet.

“Share a carriage up to the castle?” he asked.

Draco snorted, “Are we to be friends now?” he teased.

Ron smirked in spite of himself, “You’re stuck with me now, blondie.”

Draco rolled his eyes, giving a put upon sigh, “If I must,” Draco smiled as the two of them made their way out of the compartment and out towards the platform. Harry was already waiting, but Ron barely noticed him as he made his way from the platform toward the carriages.

* * *

“Looks like your friend ditched you,” a voice said from behind Harry. Harry swore under his breath turning around, to face the Slytherin behind him. Zabini. He only knew of him from the time he’d spied on Draco in sixth year.

Harry glared, "What are you on about, Zabini?" Harry growled.

"Your boy toy left with my friend," he said. "Care to share a carriage?" he smirked and Harry snorted, pushing past him, toward the carriages, just behind Ron and Draco. Blaise slid into the carriage beside Harry, and the thestrals took off. Harry glared at the blond head in front of him. Ron let out a laugh at something Draco had said. "I hope your friend realizes Draco's a bottom."

"Are you still talking?" Harry snapped. "And bottom of what?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "You poor naive thing, you,” he snickered. Harry rolled his eyes, opting to ignore the Slytherin beside him, and in front of him. Not that Blaise made it easy. “Of course, Weasley’s not really his type. Don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous, and I wouldn’t mind having a go at him myself, but let’s face it, Draco’s tastes are more…” he paused eyeing Harry, who was looking determinedly ahead. “Brooding.”

Harry finally turned to face Blaise then, “What are you going on about? Ron’s not even gay!” he snapped.

“Sure about that, are you?” Blaise asked, a smug look on his face that made Harry want to punch him.

“He’s my best mate! He would have told me a thing like that,” Harry said confidently.  _Wouldn’t he?_ Harry sighed, he didn’t want to admit that there was a small amount of doubt in him. Everything had been so different after the war, sometimes Harry couldn’t help but wonder if he’d come back to the wrong place. Surely  _this_ wasn’t the world he’d died for. Not without Hermione beside them and Ron suddenly buddying up with Draco bloody Malfoy.

“What would you say if he were?” Blaise asked, suddenly curious.

Harry sighed, “As long as he’s happy that’s all that matters,” he said.

“And if his happiness is being friends with Draco?”

Harry opened his mouth, about to argue, but he couldn’t.  _Damn Zabini and his tricky Slytherin logic._

Harry sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from Draco’s blond head sitting with his best mate. He wondered what they were talking about, wishing he had an Extendable Ear with him still.

* * *

“Aren’t you worried what people will think of you, being seen with a Death Eater?” Draco asked, apropos of nothing. Ron eyed him suddenly.

“Former Death Eater,” he corrected, suddenly feeling defensive of the blond for reasons he couldn’t explain and wouldn’t have thought possible even three months ago.

“Doesn’t stop people from spitting in my face,” Draco said, chuckling darkly.

Ron frowned at that, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s not  _your_ fault. You’re not the one who blindly followed his parents and a madman,” Draco said, staring unblinkingly ahead. Ron eyed him. “I don’t have regrets, as a rule, it seems foolish to regret a decision one makes when it changes nothing, but if I could change anything, it would have been taking Dumbledore’s offer back in sixth year.”

“Vol... _he_  was threatening your parents,” Ron said.

Draco snorted, and Ron saw a faint tear trickle down his cheek, “I couldn’t save them in the end. Mother went round the bend and father’s going to die in prison, if he hasn’t already. I couldn’t save them, I could just… prolong the inevitable,” he sighed, wiping the tear from his eye. “I’m sorry about Fred,” he said suddenly. Ron paled and turned quickly away from the blond. His brother was still a sore subject, Ron had done his best to avoid the topic altogether, tuning out or otherwise leaving the room the second anyone mentioned anything nearing the topic of Fred, but hearing Draco say his name, several emotions warred within him.  _How dare you say his name!_ His mother’s voice growled.  _It wasn’t his fault,_ said a different voice, that sounded distinctly like Fred’s. But it was his fault, Ron reminded himself. He’d let the Death Eaters in, in the first place. Sighing, Ron kept silent, he may not have outwardly hated the blond any longer, but he realized suddenly that there were many things he was going to have to confront if they were ever to become  _true_ friends. “I’m sorry about all of it really,” Draco added. Ron could feel the blond’s eyes upon him as he nodded, minutely. A small, barely there acceptance of his apology. The rest of the carriage ride was silent, save for the clop of thestral hooves on the cold hard earth.

The castle loomed over them, both a comforting reminder of home, and a foreboding reminder of a more sinister time. An uncomfortable air of dark magic still loomed over the castle, as if embedded into the walls. Or perhaps it was Ron’s imagination. He sighed. The carriage came to a stop and the two stepped off, making their way towards the Great Hall. Ron stopped at the stairs to the entrance and took Draco’s arm, pulling him off to the side to allow others to pass by them. Draco was silent for a long moment, waiting for Ron to speak.

“Look. I want to be your friend, I need someone who understands me right now, but there’s a lot of things I need to work through with regards to our past and what you did.” Draco nodded quietly. Ron sighed.

“I know an apology doesn’t mean much, and that it can never take back what happened, but I  _am_  sorry,” Draco said, there was an earnest almost frantic tone to his voice, and Ron  _knew_ he meant it.

“I know,” Ron ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s just going to take time I guess.”

“I understand,” Draco said.

“I’ve never been great at dealing with my feelings,” Ron admitted with a nervous laugh.

“We certainly have that in common.”

“I’ve spent a long time compartmentalizing myself and my life, and now I feel like I can finally be myself and it’s sort of terrifying because that looming expectation from my family isn’t there and it’s like… I’m now just... me, you know?”

Draco nodded, he supposed he knew better than anyone what Ron felt. “I just want to be able to be my authentic self, but I’m so confused as to who that is,” he admitted.

“You are a man who helped bring down the most evil wizard in history. You are fairly decent Quidditch player, but if you tell anyone that I will deny it, and you are figuring yourself out. It’s okay not to be sure,” Draco said. “There are so many things I’ve had to work through these past three months. Years of prejudice I’m still trying to unlearn. It gets easier. Day by day, week by week, but it’s not easy. By any means.” Ron nodded, never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined he would be commiserating with Draco Malfoy. That Draco would be able to understand him almost better than he understood himself. It was odd to think how much they actually had in common. They were, after all, both purebloods, and the Weasley’s  _were_  a part of the Sacred 28 even if they didn’t like to talk about it. To say nothing of their sexuality and family expectations. It wasn’t that his parents would be upset per se, but he knew they loved Hermione and his mother had not so subtly hinted over the summer the family could use some good news and perhaps it was time they considered settling down.

"So," Draco began, in the interest of changing the subject, "Anyone, in particular, you fancy?"

Ron's face went bright red as he looked back toward the carriages, blushing. Blaise made his way toward them, Harry awkwardly walking several steps behind, looking rather perturbed. "I...er..." Ron stammered as Blaise walked past them and offered Ron another wink.

Draco smirked, "Ah," he said knowingly. "Well can't say I blame you there," he smirked. Ron eyed him. "I hear he's a rather generous lover."

"You've never..."

Draco barked out a laugh, "Gods no. Blaise is like the brother I never wanted," he smirked. Harry walked past, glaring at the two of them, and Draco fell deathly silent. Ron watched the scene unfold between the two of them, Harry glaring, Draco swallowing and turning away, and suddenly something clicked into place.  _Oh, my gods. I can't believe I never saw it before._ Ron rounded on Draco the moment Harry was out of sight.

"You fancy Harry don't you?" Ron asked.

Draco's face went scarlet, "What? Don't be absurd!" Draco shrieked, his voice several octaves higher. Ron gave him a knowing smirk.

"It explains so much," Ron said. Draco groaned, pushing past him, making his way into the castle.

"Please don't read to much into whatever you think is happening here," Draco said, his face still red.

"No, I mean... I get it, for you." Draco shot him a look, and Ron held up his hands in defense. "No seriously. I mean even I have to admit there's something there between you," he gestured vaguely in the air between Draco and the empty wall of space where Harry had been.

Draco groaned, "Please stop talking," he hissed as they made their way into the Great Hall. It was different than Draco remembered. There was a whole other section of tables that had been added, next to the staff table, where it seemed the eighth years had decided to congregate. Draco made his way toward the group, feeling all eyes on him. He swallowed, holding his head up high, the one good thing he could say his father had demanded of him, and kept walking. Ron moved, quickly beside him.

"I won't tell him," Ron whispered, apparently oblivious to the glares they were currently getting. Or rather, Draco was getting. Draco sighed, walking faster, Ron easily able to keep up with him. The two took a seat at the section of the table that was still largely empty, far away from everyone else. There were murmurs throughout the Great Hall, Draco could almost hear whispers of D _eath Eater, what’s_ he  _doing here?_   _Go back to Azkaban!_ Draco wondered how many of these were real and how many were figments of his own nightmarish imagination.

Professor McGonagall stood, making her way to the podium that stood before the 8th year table and held up a hand to call for silence. The Great Hall fell deathly silent, and Professor McGonagall smiled faintly.

“Thank you all for gathering with us here today. I know that the last few months have not been easy for any of us. But this is not a time for old rivalries and bigotry. This is a new time, a time for change, a time for harmony, a time for growth and above all, a time to celebrate the fortunes which we have been given. Lord Voldemort is dead, and though he took far too many of those we loved with him, they did not die so that we could let old prejudices continue to divide us. It is with that in mind, that I wish to announce some new changes for the coming year. Obviously, we have a considerable amount of otherwise graduating students returning this year. In honor of our new unity plans, we have devised an eighth-year common room that will be located on the fifth floor. Our resident eighth years will find themselves sharing smaller dorms since there are less of you, two to a room. You will be not be matched based on houses, or personality, or previous friendships but entirely at random. Reassignments will not be allowed. Furthermore, going forward, students will not be sorted into houses at all, but instead houses will be divided at random and switched throughout the year,” the Great Hall erupted into murmuring again. “We wish to make sure that all students receive different viewpoints and experiences,” she continued. “For far too long now students have found themselves generationally in one house or another, thus cultivating an echo chamber. Make no mistake, you all have something to learn from each of these houses.”

“Not from Slytherin I expect,” said a rowdy fifth year Ravenclaw boy.

“Yes, Mr. Milford, even from Slytherin, for as much as I know your house values knowledge, you seem to have no mind for self-preservation. Fifty points from Ravenclaw.” The Ravenclaw house groaned in unison. “I trust you all to understand I am gravely serious in my endeavor.” Professor McGonagall smiled. "You have something to learn from each and every one of your classmates. And going forward, you will have such an opportunity. Any questions?" the room remained silent. "Excellent. Let the feast begin," she said turning around towards the 8th year students and smiled. "Welcome back," she smiled sweetly and made her way back up to the staff table.

Harry glared down the table at Ron and Draco, talking as though they'd been friends for years. Blaise chuckled beside him.

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you," he said. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Why are you stalking me?" he demanded.

Blaise snorted, "That's rich coming from you. Don't think I don't know about your little stalking of Draco in sixth year."

"He was  _up_  to something," Harry growled. "And I was proven right in the end."

Blaise smirked, "Is that why you all but followed him into the Quidditch locker rooms? Because you were curious about what he was up to? Why can't you just admit you were staring at his arse?"

"What?" Harry snapped.

"Not that I blame you of course. It is a spectacular arse. He's not so bad himself. Not that we ever..." he trailed off. Harry glared. "You're a terrible liar, Potter."

"I'm not lying... why am I even arguing with you?"

"Because your best mate and mine are too busy for us."

Harry snorted. "Speak for yourself Zabini. Ron's not going to abandon me for Draco bloody Malfoy," he spat.

"Sure of that are you?" Blaise asked with a smirk. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're trying to split us up," Harry said suddenly. Blaise raised an eyebrow. "That's it! You and Malfoy aren't interested in friendship, you just want to divide and conquer the golden trio and with Hermione not here it's that much easier," Harry said.

Blaise laughed, "That's a little paranoid Potter."

"Is it? I would have thought the  _Art of War_  was a bedtime story for Slytherins."

Blaise laughed again, "Sun Tsu was a probably a wizard, and I hate to burst your bubble of hating my house, but it's not that serious."

"I could have been a Slytherin," Harry said apropos of nothing.

"Could you?"

"I know how you think."

"I didn't know Gryffindor's thought at all," Blaise quipped. “Apparently you are rather paranoid, for reasons I can't begin to fathom."

"So you're going to sit there and act as though this isn't all some scheme you two hatched on the train to separate us?"

Blaise sighed, "Potter, what precisely would be the purpose of that? In case it escaped your notice, we aren't exactly the bells of the ball. In fact, we're rather loathed still at the moment. You two, however, are war heroes." Harry sighed, he refused to believe that it wasn't all some trick and yet... Ron seemed happy to be talking to Malfoy. It didn't  _look_  sinister and that's what made it all the more suspicious. "I know this is hard to believe for you, but we're not all evil. Despite what you may think about Draco, he's not a bad person. He was caught up in his parents bullshit, and he did some bad things but you have no idea what it was like for him. Voldemort lived in his house and would have killed his parents."

"My parents have been dead since I was one, you'll forgive me if I don't feel sorry for him," Harry snapped.

"You never knew your parents and I get that doesn't make it better, but Draco, despite everything, was close to his. And let's not forget, his mother saved you in the end."

Harry snorted, "So that's it, I'm indebted to them."

"Hardly, Potter why must everything be a battle with you? Look whether you choose to believe it or not, Draco and Weasley are friends, and you're going to have to get used to it."

Harry sighed, pushing his plate of food away. He was already beginning to regret coming back to Hogwarts.

After dinner, Professor McGonagall excused the first through seventh-year students and held back the eighth years.

"We've transformed some space for you on the fifth floor, behind a tapestry of the founders. Room assignments will be posted in the common room, the password is unity," and with that, she dismissed the students.

Ron and Draco stood excitedly making their way out of the Great Hall and up the staircase towards the fifth floor.

"Can you imagine if we got roomed together?" Ron asked.

"I'd hate for you to cut in on my sex life," Draco said sarcastically. Ron laughed.

"Planning to be a slag are we?"

“Oh Weasley, always,” Draco said with a wink. “What do you think I spent my summer doing?”

Ron snorted, as the two reached the tapestry and made their way towards the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. “Unity,” Ron said. Dumbledore smiled and the portrait opened.

The eighth-year common room was impressive, decorated in shades of purple, and light grey, with a light, airy sort of feel. It was nothing like the Slytherin dungeons, or like Gryffindor tower, though it did have some of the decorating touches from each house. There were black leather couches dotting some parts of the room, like in Slytherin, and overstuffed couches from Gryffindor tower. An impressive library of books from Ravenclaw, and what looked to be largely stuffed round pillows on the floor presumably from Hufflepuff. Ron smiled as he ran towards the other end of the common room, in search of the parchment that had their room assignments on it. Draco followed quickly behind.

“Well?” he asked, not daring to hope. Ron turned towards him excitedly, pointing to the area of the page that held their names:  _Malfoy-Weasley._ Draco grinned. “Excellent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on  Tumblr 


	3. revelations

“No, no, no,” Harry groaned, his head hitting the wall just beneath the posting of room assignments with a groan. _Why does the Universe hate me?_ Blaise Zabini was doubled over with laughter beside him. _Coming back had definitely been a mistake_ , Harry thought.

“Cheer up mate,” Blaise said with a smirk, “It’s not all that bad.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have to be roomed with _you!_ ” Harry snapped.

Blaise held up his hands in defense, “I’m more than happy to ignore you for the year Potter.”

Harry snorted, “Somehow I seriously doubt that,” he shook his head and turned on his heel.

“Where are you going?” Blaise called after him.

“Down to the Hogshead to get pissed,” Harry growled. He would have to learn to stop answering all Zabini’s inane questions as though they were mates.

Harry grumbled, pulling his cloak tight around his body as he made his way down the staircase, eager to get a damn stiff drink. The staircase shifted and Harry groaned, _of bloody course,_ he thought, waiting for the staircase to stop at Merlin only knew where. The staircase came to a halt and Harry sighed, stepping down the stairs, following the rest of the way down, he had explored enough of the castle by now, he was fairly capable of making his way just about anywhere without much effort even if it _was_ obnoxious.

The Hogshead was decidedly empty, Harry was grateful to find, save for a lone patron sitting at the bar in a black cloak. Harry sat down, several seats from the stranger and ordered himself a bottle of Old Ogden's, _might as well save myself the trouble of asking for glasses._

"You can't just drink your problems away," came a silky voice from the cloaked man beside him. Harry groaned, swearing under his breath.

"Malfoy. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Getting pissed, Potter, rather like you I expect," he swallowed a shot of something acid green and hissed, replacing his shot glass on the counter with well-practiced gentility. Harry tried not to notice the way his thin, pale, elegant fingers wrapped around the shot glass, and the odd effect it seemed to have on him.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked, trying to sound less jealous than he felt, and take his mind off of any other thoughts regarding Malfoy and his fingers wrapped around things.

"Doing his homework," Draco said, ordering another shot.

" _You_ got him to do homework?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Is that _you_ being impressed?" Draco asked.

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm just surprised is all. Even 'Mione couldn't get him to do homework," Harry said pouring himself a glass.

"Yes well I trust she wasn't recommending _this_ sort of homework," Draco said flatly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh do put your ‘I hate Malfoy’ pin away, I'm not the actual devil, you know."

"Could have fooled me," Harry remarked. Draco sighed.

"You and everyone else. Far be it for me not to kowtow to the great prince of Wizarding kind, shall I genuflect or would you prefer I prostrate myself for you?"

Harry eyed him, "As much as I'm sure you look great on your knees, no that's not what I'm asking for."

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco growled, getting to his feet. He quickly drank his last shot and threw several galleons onto the counter.

"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy," Harry said grabbing his arm. "You're such a drama queen."

Draco glared, "Unhand me Potter, or I swear to god I'll break your nose again." Harry let go of his arm defensively. Draco sniffed, "You know I've tried _very_ hard to be a better person than I was last year, and yet five minutes in the same room as you and I find myself wanting to punch your teeth in. Why is that?"

"I bring out the best in you?" Harry asked. Draco snorted. "Admit it, your life would be terribly boring without me."

"My life might be calm without you Potter," Draco replied.

Harry laughed, "I'll drink to that."

Draco sighed, "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

"You know what, why did you defend me? We weren't friends you certainly didn't owe me anything."

"Of course I did, you lied to your father and Aunt for me, then your mother lied to the Dark Lord for me, I owed you and your mother everything."

Draco sighed, "Great, well you've repaid your debt, so you can leave me in peace then I guess," he said.

"So wait, you get to ask me things, but I don't get to ask you anything?"

"What do you want to know?" Draco asked, somewhat shocked by the question.

"Why are you really friends with Ron?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

Draco snorted. "Are you joking?" Harry merely stared seriously at him. " _That's_ the burning question you wanted to ask me, not are you sorry, not why did you do it, not literally anything else, just why am I friends with your best mate?"

"Are you sorry?"

"Does it matter?" Draco asked, arms folded across his chest.

"Of course it matters."

"Why? It doesn't change how people see me. You heard them in the Great Hall, hell you were glaring daggers at me the entire time. So what I feel or how sorry I am, is irrelevant."

"It's relevant to me," Harry said.

Draco scoffed, "Well guess what Potter, the world does not revolve around you. And for the record, Ron's allowed to have other friends besides you. If you want to know, ask him, I'm not going to betray his trust by revealing secrets just to get into your good graces," Draco said, and with that he turned on his heel and left the Hogshead, leaving Harry alone to ruminate on all he had learned. He didn't want to think too hard on how impressed he was by Draco's protectiveness of Ron. Perhaps he really ___was_ serious. Harry thought, preposterous as that sounded.

Harry drank down the last of his glass, and dropped several galleons on the counter, and stood, sucking in a deep breath. The room spun slightly as he made his way out of the Hogshead, and back up to the castle.

* * *

Ron was panting, his legs trembling as he laid back on the bed, his whole body spent.

A clap echoed from the outside of his bed curtains. Ron leaped, poking his head out, to find Blaise standing there, grinning and looking far too pleased with himself. Ron blushed crimson.

“How long have you been standing there?” he demanded.

Blaise smirked, eyeing the flush that made its way down Ron’s chest, “I could hear you through the walls sweetheart,” he remarked with a lascivious grin.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, his face flushed.

Blaise chuckled, “Sorry I missed the grand finale, I could have given you a hand,” he winked.

“Are you this flirty with everyone, or am I just special?” Ron asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Blaise grinned, biting his lower lip in a way that Ron found entirely too attractive for his own good. “You’re _definitely_ special baby,” he purred.

Ron blushed, “You can’t just say things like that,” he said.

“It’s true,” Blaise said with a grin. “I find you very alluring,” he purred.

“Is that so?” somehow Ron didn’t believe it.

“I’d be happy to prove it to you baby.”

“What are you proving?” came the familiar drawl of Draco Malfoy from behind Blaise. Ron had never been so glad to hear that drawl. Blaise’s smile fell slightly.

“ _Darling,_ I didn’t hear your hooves.”

Draco laughed, “My horns are down too, forgive me. Go make sure your roommate is still alive, he was rather pissed when I left him at the Hogshead.”

Blaise sighed, “Just how I want to spend my night, babysitting Potter.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, “Is Harry okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” Draco promised, shooing Blaise out of the room, “Blaise is more than capable of handling him, aren’t you Blaise?”

“I was trying to handle something else before you showed up,” he hissed.

Draco stuck out his tongue, “Thank you hon,” he said as Blaise vanished down the corridor. Ron groaned, falling back onto his bed with a sigh.

“So, how was it?” Draco asked.

“Loud, apparently,” Ron admitted.

Draco chuckled, “Fabulous.”

“Mortifying more like, Blaise came in and he was like sorry I missed the grand finale I would have given you a hand, I mean who says that?”

“Blaise does,” Draco said. “He means it too. The problem is he’s used to getting what he wants so he gets bored easily. If you want to keep him you’re going to have to make him work for it.”

Ron blushed, “H-how would I do that?”

“Ignore him, as far as you’re concerned he doesn’t exist. Flirt with other guys, there’s almost no one here hotter so you may have to work around that and fake it a bit. Cormac’s pretty fit and bi… or he was when his cock was down my throat, either way you’re cute, and a twink with a considerably nice arse so you’ll be fine.”

Ron blushed, “I… Cormac… twink?”

Draco smiled, “I know I’m tossing a lot of information at you, suffice it to say, you’re going to be fine,” he promised.

Ron sighed, “I’ve never felt particularly good looking, certainly not like you. I’m not sure I’m confident enough to pull someone like Cormac.”

“Nonsense, darling, come here,” Draco walked over to the mirror and coaxed Ron out from beneath his sheets wearing only his pants. “Now stand where I’m standing and look at yourself. Ron stared at his reflection in the mirror with a frown.

“What am I supposed to be seeing exactly?”

Draco sighed, “You are fabulous, now look, turn,” he turned Ron to the side, showing off his arse. “Look at this. Do you know how many tops would kill to fuck an arse like this? It’s fantastic. Not to mention, you’re a hero, you’re a sweetheart, and if you suck cock anything like you attack a chicken leg you’re going to be just fine.”

Ron blushed, “Oh gods… I have to practice that, I don’t want to be bad at sucking…”

Draco held up a hand, “Patience we’ll get there. I’m a master at it, I’ll teach you everything I know. Actually I may be able to get Cormac involved in this, admittedly he may hate me now since that was in sixth year, I was going through a bit of a slut phase since I thought I was going to die.”

“What’s your excuse been this past summer?” Ron retorted.

“I survived, obviously,” Draco said with a smirk. “But good shade all the same.”

“Shade?”

Draco sighed, “Oh boy, this could take a while.”

 

* * *

Freezing cold rain pelted Harry from above, his skin burned and his whole body shivered. Harry groaned, blinking at the frigid wet earth beneath him. _What the bloody hell?_ He looked up at the still dark sky to see rain pouring down on him. _Oh._ He was outside, he’d passed out on the Quidditch pitch on his walk back up to the castle. Blaise stood, his arms folded across his chest several feet away. Harry groaned, and let his head drop back into the muddy grass.

“Why can’t you let me be unconscious in peace?”

“Cause you’ll drown in the rain like a moron,” Blaise said, absently staring at his nails. “Far be it for me to stop you pickling yourself and passing out on the Quidditch pitch, only I think people would be rather unhappy if the savior of the Wizarding world died of pneumonia during a rainstorm and I didn’t at last attempt to do something about it.”

Harry sighed, “I’ll make sure to write it in my will you did everything you could.”

Blaise snorted. “Get up you sod.”

Harry sighed, pushing himself up and getting to his feet. “Happy now?”

Blaise smirked, “-ish.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“Prat.”

Blaise winked, “Now then, let’s get you dry and warm, huh?”

Harry pursed his lips, begrudgingly taking Blaise’s help to get back up to the castle.


	4. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mature themes ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I’m so sorry this took me so long, I got sick and so writing has been a little tricky. But I’m on the mend so, let’s get into chapter 4. :D

The morning sun was blinding; Harry’s head throbbed as the room swam into focus. He gagged as a wave of nausea crashed into him suddenly. Squinting against the sunlight, he reached blindly for the emergency hangover potion he usually kept on the nightstand.

“Looking for this?” Blaise asked, dangling the potion over his head.

Harry glared, “What do you want?”

Blaise grinned, “I’m glad I have your attention. You need to get your shit together Potter, because this,” he gestured vaguely over Harry, who was still sprawled over his bed. “Is unacceptable for the Boy Who Lived.”

Harry snorted, “And what would you know about it.”

“Image is everything to Slytherin’s, Potter. You should know that by now. We selectively cultivate how people see us every day, and as such, public drunkenness, passing out on Quidditch pitches, and the like, are  _not_ the Slytherin way.”

“I’m not a Slytherin,” Harry groaned. His head was still throbbing and he was sure he’d vomit from the scent of Blaise’s aftershave before long if he didn’t get that bloody potion.

“You  _could_ have been,” Blaise said.

“How would you know?” Harry asked, reaching for the potion in Blaise’s hand. Blaise raised an eyebrow, lifting the phial just enough so that Harry couldn’t reach it.

“You have all the traits of a true Slytherin, you  _have_ ambition, self-preservation, not cunning as such necessarily, but that can be learned with time.”

“What makes you think I  _want_ to learn that?” Harry groaned, flopping onto his back.

“Cunning is very a useful skill Potter, frankly one you could use.”

Harry glared. “What do you want from me?” he demanded, giving up, and praying for death.

“As I said, get your shit together,” Blaise replied.

“Thanks mother.”

Blaise snorted, “You clearly  _need_ someone to take care of your sloppy arse, but it sure as fuck isn’t going to be me. You’re lucky you have someone out there who cares enough to brew this,” he said dropping the phial on the nightstand.

Harry looked at the phial of potion, his head giving a particularly painful throb when Blaise slammed the door behind him. Sighing, he downed the contents of the phial and pulled himself out of bed. It was going to be a very long day, he thought miserably.

Breakfast was a mostly quiet affair; Ron and Draco had come down early to enjoy a leisurely breakfast and chat before their first class of the year, Potions.

Blaise grinned, taking the seat directly across from Ron. "I hear some of the other eighth years are planning a unity party this weekend," he said, apropos of nothing.

“Oh?" Draco asked raising an eyebrow. Ron stared nervously between Blaise and Draco, but Blaise was staring straight at the redhead.

“One can only imagine what those Gryffindor's will get up to. It's lead by Dean and Seamus, so you can be sure there'll be a lot of mischief." His eyes flashed and Ron blushed crimson.

“Considering the parties we held in the dungeons, I should think whatever Dean and Seamus can concoct would be positively tame."

“I wouldn't count them out just yet, I'm sure the Gryffindor's can be plenty...  _devious_." Ron swallowed at that and Blaise grinned.

Draco turned to Ron then, and whispered in his ear, "We'll have to move up your lesson. I'll grab Cormac," and with that, Draco stood and made his way toward the other end of the eighth year table where Cormac was sitting with several of his friends in the middle of a conversation. Several of the boys surrounding Cormac glared at Draco, but he didn't seem to even notice them. He grinned, leaning down beside Cormac and whispered in his ear. Ron watched in rapt fascination. The look on the Gryffindor's face was almost feral. He grinned, looking down the table at Ron, then turned back to Draco and nodded, and kissed his cheek, much to the displeasure of his friends. Draco turned on his heel, and made his way back to Ron's end of the table.

"Impressive," Ron said.

"Not really, Cormac will screw anything with legs," Blaise said.

"How charming," Draco hissed, throwing a piece of bread at his friend. “Cormac’s coming to our room directly after classes,” he added in a whisper to Ron. Ron blushed crimson.

“T-today?”

“You have a more pressing engagement?” Draco asked, eating a spoonful of yoghurt rather sensuously. Ron blushed again.

“Stop that,” he hissed.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Darling, don’t be a prude.”

“I’m not a prude, I’m just not as open as you.”

Draco smirked, “Fair.”

“What if I’m rubbish at… you know,  _that?”_ Ron asked nervously.

Draco held his hand, “That’s why you practice,  _a lot,_ Cormac takes a long time to come, you’ll be fine.” Ron blushed. “Now then, come on, we gotta get good seats for potions.”

* * *

Harry stared, his mouth agape, as Draco ate his spoonful of yoghurt.

Blaise chuckled. “Close your mouth Potter.” Harry swallowed hard, staring dumbfounded after the blond. “If I didn’t know any better, Potter, I’d say you were hard right now. But that would be silly, right? I mean, the boy who lived doesn’t like boys does he? But then, Draco’s never been just any boy has he?” Harry couldn’t look Blaise in the face at that. He couldn’t really argue with it either; he was inexplicably and unbelievably hard and he didn’t want to think too much on that.

“Come on, we’ll be late for potions,” Harry growled, getting to his feet. There was no sense in pretending as though Blaise was ever going to leave him alone again. Blaise grinned and followed him out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons.

*** * ***

“I’m not sure how much longer I can resist Blaise’s advances,” Ron admitted as they sat in the empty classroom several moments later. The dungeons were as dank and dismal as ever, and the thought that he, Ron Weasley, was sitting in the front of the classroom with Draco Malfoy of all people, struck him as rather absurd, and yet… it worked.

Draco eyed him, turning in his chair to face Ron fully, “Let me ask you a question. Are you prepared to handle him, or any man at present? You’ve  _barely_ come out, you need to give yourself some breathing room.”

“You sound like a mother.”

Draco snorted, “Don’t be foul, I’m no one’s mother. I just mean, don’t feel like you have to rush into things. If you want a little snog, that’s all well and good but you make him work for more, you deserve to be wooed, and properly courted. You  _are_ a pureblood after all. Even if your family doesn’t go for traditions. Blaise does.”

Ron blushed at that, "Easy for you to say, you're..."

"I'm a former Death Eater, Ronald, don't assume that I have more of a chance simply because I'm attractive."

"Don't you?" Ron asked.

"You're not unpretty. I don't understand this lack of confidence,  _surely_ you've had people tell you, you're attractive before?"

"I've been rather thin and lanky for years, so not quite," he replied.

Draco sighed, "Well you are. Blaise may be a slag, but he does have taste. A very specific taste. Don't worry so much."

“You just don’t want me cutting in on your slagfest,” Ron said with a pout. Draco barked out a laugh at that.

“Prat,” he chuckled. Harry and Blaise made their way into the classroom then, and Ron noticed as Draco’s laugh died and his smile fell, it never quite left his eyes though, even as he tried to sit up straight and turned around to face the front of the room. Harry took the table directly behind theirs, and sat with his arms folded across his chest. Blaise smirked, sitting behind Ron. Ron eyed him and Blaise mouthed  _watch this,_ to him. Ron raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“So, Dray, who was that brunette I saw you snogging the other night?” Ron eyed Blaise for a moment, then looked over at Harry whose eyes had darkened. He was looking like he was trying not to listen. Ron eyed Draco then.

Draco snorted. “Says the bloke who’s been eyefucking my new mate for the last two days,” he said under his breath, never turning his head.

“So sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” Blaise said. “I just mean you clearly have a type. Tall, dark, and broody, with a bit of a beard and surprising amount of muscle,” his eyes shot over to Harry’s form, then back to the back of Draco’s head. Draco snorted. “Tell me, are they  _all_ dark haired, or is it just the ones you let bend you over…”

“ENOUGH!” Harry snapped, slamming his hand on the table. “Can we  _please_ get through ten minutes without having to hear about Malfoy’s sordid sex life?”

Draco rolled his eyes at that, Blaise grinned at Ron, with a look that said  _see?_ Ron smirked, leaning into Draco, “If it’s any consolation, he has a penchant for blonds that he hasn’t come to terms with. I don’t even think he’s aware...”

“It’s not,” Draco hissed, shaking his head, looking like he wished for a black hole to open up in the floor and devour him whole. Ron frowned, but kept to himself. The classroom had begun to fill up then, and he knew Draco would not want to discuss this any further with more witnesses than he could possibly hope to control.

"Good morning students," Professor Slughorn said happily as he entered the classroom. "Today we will be brewing Truth Revealing potions. Not quite Veritaserum, of course, but close. I'll be having you partner up in alphabetical order for you eighth years, that means Mr. Potter, you and Mr. Malfoy will be partnering up. Mr. Weasley, you'll be partnering up with Mr. Zabini, Mr. Longbottom, you'll be partnering with..." Ron didn't hear anything after, ‘partnering with Mr. Zabini’, he blushed hard. Draco smirked, and moved to the back with Harry and Blaise quickly took his place.

*** * ***

“Truth revealing potion, that sounds like it would be pretty useful for a future Auror,” Draco said in the interest of making conversation.

Harry snorted, “Perfect, you can take it then, and I can practice my interrogation skills.”

Draco smirked, “By all means, I have nothing to hide,” he said confidently. Harry eyed him silently, as Draco cut up the ingredients. There was something about the way his fingers curled around the tools, so delicate yet determined. Harry swallowed, staring intently, watching Draco’s fingers scoop up the ingredients before tossing them into the cauldron. His eyes trailed up Draco’s nimble fingers to his wrists, his pale forearm, and his elbows where his crisp white sleeves were rolled up. Draco wiped a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and Harry couldn’t help but follow the movement with his eyes, silently staring. He was transfixed on a lock of Draco’s long blond hair that had come out of the ponytail he had pulled it into at the start of their potion. It was currently dangling in Draco’s face, just begging Harry to push it out of the way. The hair directed Harry’s eyes to the fact that Draco’s tie had been removed sometime during the last few minutes, and the first three buttons of his dress shirt had been unbuttoned revealing a long expanse of pale neck, and collarbones that made Harry’s mouth water. Part of him, a surprising part he would admit, wanted desperately to pin the blond against the desk and trace every inch of his throat with his tongue. He could almost  _hear_ Draco moan his name in the back of his mind. Harry stood abruptly, knocking over their potion in the process as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the classroom in an effort to make a hasty escape. Draco sighed staring at his ruined potion, with a frown.

“I’ll just go check on him, shall I?” Blaise asked, already getting up to follow Harry out.

“He can’t even stand to be in the same room as me for more than twenty minutes,” Draco said with a dark laugh, laying his head in his arms on the table. Professor Slughorn vanished the remainder of their spilled cauldron and patted him affectionately on the shoulder.

* * *

“So, we gonna talk about that little freak out you had back there?” Blaise asked once he’d caught up with Harry in their dorm room.

“No. I don’t want to talk with  _you_ about anything.”

Blaise sighed, “Potter, I realize you wish to keep up this hatred of me out of spite or whatever, but if we’re to be roommates you’re  _eventually_ going to have to talk with one another. You’ve been through a lot, I get that, and if anyone deserves to be alone for a while it’s you…”

“And yet, here you are,” Harry said with a snort, shaking his head as he pulled his blanket over his head.

“Listen, I will be there for you and nothing you tell me will leave our room. So just… know that, alright?”

“Why should I trust you?”

Blaise grinned, and held up a bottle of clear liquid, pulling down Harry’s blanket. “I nicked this from Slughorn’s desk.”

“Truth revealing potion?” Harry asked. Blaise winked and tossed back the phial in one sip.

“Ask away Potter.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously. “How do I know that’s really truth revealing potion?”

“You don’t, but that’s on you. Frankly I have no reason to lie to you, so this should be easy.”

Harry sighed, and sat up, staring at the other man. “Right, what’s your real motivation in trying to be my friend?”

“To be your friend, what of that isn’t clear?” Blaise said.

“Right, you are a Slytherin, it would be advantageous to be friends with me.”

“Ah, don’t put words into my mouth,” Blaise corrected. “Let me be clear,  _yes_ it would be advantageous, but that is not, in fact, my reasoning. If you want the truth, I am a little besotted with your friend Ronald, I was hoping if I got to be friends with you, you might be able to assist me…”

“So you just want to get into my best mate’s pants?”

“Hardly,” Blaise said.

“What is it you really want with him then?” Harry demanded.

Blaise smiled, “To date him, love him, whatever he’ll let me have.”

Harry snorted, “He’s not gay.”

Blaise merely shrugged, “Then I’ll just have to settle for friendship, won’t I?”

Harry’s face fell at that. “I… what about Draco?”

“No.”

“What?” Harry stared at him confused.

“No questions about Draco. You want to know, ask him. I’m not going to betray his trust. I realize you seem to be under the impression that Slytherins are only in things for themselves, but that’s simply not the case. Draco and I have been best mates since we were in nappies.”

“Just…” Harry sighed, “Has he really changed?

Blaise snorted, “Potter, this might be news to you, but Draco has  _never_ been what everyone thought he was. So no he hasn’t  _changed,_ he’s finally become himself. He’s found the freedom to be his authentic self for the first time in his life. If you mean is he no longer a bigoted Death Eater well… again, recommend you ask him yourself.”

“I just don’t want him to hurt Ron. You don’t know what it was like growing up with…”

Blaise eyed him, “You think you were innocent in all this? You and your golden trio? Oh Potter, how naive. I was there for all of it, and believe me, you  _gave_ just as good as you got. You even started a few fights from what I have heard. Calling Lucius a loser to Narcissa’s face, I confess that was one of my favorite snarky moments of yours.”

“She kind of started that one.”

“I didn’t say she was perfect. None of us were, and that includes you, Potter.” Harry sighed. Blaise was right of course, though he was loathed to admit that.

*** * ***

“Hey baby, been a while,” Cormac said, as he entered Ron and Draco’s dorm after classes. Draco smiled, letting Cormac kiss his cheek, as he made his way over to Draco’s bed. Ron eyed him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered to Draco.

“Don’t be silly darling, I love sucking dick.”

“Maybe, but I know it’s not the dick you want to suck,” Ron said giving him a hard look.

“Ronald, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern, really I do, but fine, now, watch and learn,” Draco said moving over to stand in front of Cormac, and dropped to his knees. Ron’s eyes widened.

“Don’t be shy baby, I’m not,” Cormac said, patting the spot on the bed beside him. Ron stood awkwardly off to the corner and Draco glared.  _Get. Over. Here,_ he mouthed. Ron all but ran over and kneeled beside him. Draco unbuttoned Cormac’s trousers and pulled them down to reveal he wasn’t wearing any pants. His hard-on stood proudly against his stomach.

“No pants, how considerate,” Draco commented.

“I aim to please, baby,” Cormac said.

“Could have fooled me,” Ron whispered. It was all Draco could do not to chuckle.

“Now, there are a few different ways you can get started here, one of which is to wrap your hand around the shaft and pull down to reveal the head, or glans if you want to get technical. Ideally, you would wrap your lips around the head, and stroke the rest of the shaft you can’t get into your mouth, especially on your first time. It’s important you’re not trying to deep throat; the last thing you want to do is throw up on a dude, not sexy,” Draco said beginning to demonstrate on Cormac.

Ron watched in rapt fascination as the blond moaned, thrusting up into Draco’s mouth. He took it well enough, Ron was sure he didn’t even hear a gag.

“That’s it, baby,” Cormac said. Draco moved with almost robotic precision, twisting his hand in time with his bobbing head. It was hard to tell from his vantage point whether or not Draco was actually enjoying it, though it was clear Cormac was. “Fuck baby, that’s it, mmm.”

Ron swallowed, feeling somewhat awkward watching the scene unfolding before him. It was meant to be erotic he was sure, but something about it felt, off. Cormac was moaning, and dropping ‘baby’ every few words, but for the life of him, Draco looked like he could have been in History of Magic for how bored he was.

“I think I get it,” Ron whispered after what had felt like an awkward sort of eternity. Draco raised an eyebrow. Ron got to his feet and left their room, making his way toward the common room.

“What was that?” Draco asked, meeting him in the common room a few minutes later. It was largely empty, save for several students studying in the corner, or more likely, pretending to study.

“You just looked bored,” Ron said. “But I got the gist of the movements.”

Draco sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to having someone see my face full time when I’m doing that. I forgot how tiresome Cormac’s ‘baby’ talk can be.”

Ron chuckled. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Draco smiled, “I didn’t do it just for you. I  _do_ usually enjoy sex a lot more than that. Maybe I’m broken, I don’t know, it was just… boring,” he shrugged.

“Can we like… kick him out then?”

Draco laughed. “Consider it done, hon. But you’ll still need to practice. I’ll find you a good dildo just for that.” Ron nodded.

“Thanks. You know you’re not so bad, for a Slytherin.”

“Don’t spread that around, I have a reputation to uphold,” Draco said with a chuckle.

Ron smiled, rolling his eyes, as the two made their way back to their dorm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much. If you liked this please visit me on  Tumblr 


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